


Penny/Boom

by angeburger



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Ugh, mentions of drug use, mentions of recovery, s2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeburger/pseuds/angeburger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S2 spoilers. At 2 o'clock, we go to a game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prompt #69

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr (@pinksugarsheartattack) prompt #69: "why the hell are you bleeding?"
> 
> Special thanks to @thecannabiskid & @malekbrosinc for talking me through this.

He shot me in the head this morning. Again.

Right after I woke up. Right as I was pulling on some clothes. I was late to meet Leon for breakfast anyway. I hoped he wouldn't be mad. I guess I needed the sleep. He's been on me lately for sleeping and eating. Like, I'm not doing enough of either. But that's nothing new; between my faithful friends morphine, caffeine, and nicotine, I never really had to do any of that. 

Or maybe I just never had to think about that. 

It doesn't hurt as much as it did at first. Psychosomatic illness can be a bitch that way. Either way, I bled, Mr. Robot looked was pacified for the moment, and I used the last of my gauze to tape it up. 

I need to get more later. 

But for now… 

“Pass the fuckin’ ball!” Leon’s shouting at defense (at least, I think it's defense). We're at our daily pick-up game. He gets really worked up here. I still don't get it. I tried, but stopped when Ollie used to come into work bitching about it. 

My chest squeezes. It feels like so long ago. Life before 5/9, fsociety, working at allsafe. 

Before I met Mr. Robot. Before we started this eternal dance that makes me tired just thinking about it. 

Fuck. I miss Angela. Darlene. Shayla. Hell, even a not-paranoid-Gideon would be great right about now. 

And that's when I feel the metal against the base of my skull, the sulfur smell and scratch of a match being lit, a cigarette coming soon thereafter. 

“You rang, kiddo?” 

Mr. Robot exhales smoke behind me. I don't need to turn around to know he's smiling. 

I keep my eyes on the ball. I don't move.

“Aww, don't do that. Don't be a child. The silent treatment is bullshit. We both know that.” 

I don't answer. I can feel the safety clinking off. It's echoing through the back of my head. 

Fuck. I needed this like… 

“A hole in the head?” His voice is scratchy with sunlight, joyous. But gilded with poison. “I can arrange that, if you'd like.” 

“What the fuck you guys, why aren't you passing the ball?” Leon sounds too angry to be confused. I warm myself with that anger. I pretend the rest of me is ice. Ice wouldn't answer Mr. Robot.

“If you go to the arcade, you can make this all go away.” The squeal of his heel, killing his cigarette. His breath is warm against my ear. “Just get to a terminal. All of this will disappear if you do.” 

I feel my eyes widen. Disappear? I look at Leon, happy in his rage for betting on the losing team. 

No. I don't want this to disappear 

No. Fuck. No. No no no no no n- 

“Come now, kiddo. See sense. Free us from this analog nightmare.” He's crooning in my ear, so close, so close, can he hear my heart pounding? Can Leon? 

Statue. Rock. Metal. I am not human. I will not react. I will not. 

The hammer being cocked is deafening. “Well, I warned you.” It's a tired sigh, so, so tired. I'm just realizing that this has been just as exhausting for Mr. Robot as it has for m- 

BLAM. Pain blossoms, the bullet finding its way out right above my eye. Right where the other bullets have made their mark.

The gauze feels wet there. My fingers come away with bright red drips. Penny smell. 

I'm nauseous. I don't know why. 

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up. You're bleeding!” Leon jumps almost a foot in the air, I must've dripped onto his arm. 

The court is spinning. He's scrambling, finally taking off his bandana to help stanch things.

The others are looking at me. 

“I'm -” 

“Cuz. You're lookin’ like a fish.” His voice is soft, easily missed by the others in the ensuing din. My skin’s crawling. I haven't felt like this since that trip to Steel Mountain. Fuck. 

The other guys are gaping staring dead fish mouths. 

“Fuck these guys.” Leon grumbles, standing, helping me up. I want to shrug him off but everything is still whirling about. I almost stumble when he tugs at my wrist. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

His fingers are warm. He smells like spring, but not the real thing. No, more like that first scent of spring right after a long winter. 

“What happened?” 

The scent of hope. 

“Elliot?” 

Leon's face is suddenly right in front of mine. He looks concerned. 

“I...I don't know. Woke up with a scratch. Musta done it in my sleep.” It's as close to the truth that I'm gonna get. For Leon, anyway. 

He looks away, jerking his chin at a stoop and steps. One brow raised. “We're here.” then, “You fuckin’ with that Ambien shit? Hear that you can eat a whole pizza and drive across the border in your sleep without knowin’ it on that shit.” 

Laughter shakes my ribs, making my heart trip overtime. “Nah. Just a weird sleeper, I guess.” 

Up onto the stoop, up more stairs. Leon's hand is on my elbow, steering me in various directions until he's fumbling for his keys with his free hand. 

He's obviously having some trouble. I try to twist away but I'm still dizzy so I wobble and he glares at me. 

“Nuh uh. My mom would have kick my ass if I let a sick friend pass out on our doorstep.” He finally manages to unlock his door. 

“You live with your mom?” Oh. Oh shit. I'm not...I don't think I could handle another human buzzing around me right now. Leon is enough. 

I hear a squeaky meow and look at my feet. A small cloud of a kitten is sniffing at my shoes and winding itself around my legs. 

“Damn, Leonard. Buy him dinner first.” He scoops Leonard up easily with one hand, getting us inside. He lets go of my elbow after I manage to sit on a sad couch, putting Leonard right next to me. 

“You have a cat?” 

“You got something against them?” He's already in the bathroom. His place is small, spartan. Clean but shabby. Two bedrooms from my vantage point. 

“No, just...they're assholes.” I feel myself starting to unwind. This place reminds me of my old apartment. But my heart clenches at that thought and - 

“My mom's at my aunt’s for a bit. And yeah, they are assholes.” He comes out of the bathroom with fresh gauze, rubbing alcohol. A tumbler of water in his other hand. 

Maybe he could hear how fucked up and panicked I am. Shit. Why am I here? 

“Relax, cuz. I got you.” He hands me the water and I drain it. I was thirsty. Didn't even know it. “Just lie back. Me and Leonard will take care of you. Right?” 

He looks at the kitten, who looks like cotton candy. Leonard squeaks affirmative, then tumbles into my lap. My hand finds his fur, and strokes. Leon nods approvingly. 

“Studies show that pets bring your stress levels down.” I find myself reciting that statistic. Don't know why. Just popped into my head. My breathing’s slowly, Leon's in hyper-focus. His lips look soft. 

Pain. Like someone’s trying to open my skull. It makes me curl and shudder and Leonard squeaks, annoyed. Claws through my jeans. 

“That is one ugly cut, cuz.” Leon whistles, dabbing at the gunshot wound. 

“Distract me,” I manage. Feels like he's trying to peel my flesh off with a butter knife. 

He's absorbed in cleaning out the wound, but nods distractedly. “Mm. Yeah.” 

“Like why the fuck is your cat’s named Leonard?” I try raising my eyebrow but it hurts too much on that one side. 

I hear Robot’s laughter on the breeze. Motherfucker. I can see him in my head having a belly laugh. 

“Ask Claire. Neighborhood kid. Her cat had kittens, her mom needed them to get adopted out or they were goin’ to the pound.” 

I can imagine that. For all of his rough edges on the court, I can see his thoughtfulness all the same. God knows I've heard enough of it during his Seinfeld monologues. 

He's flushed, eyes darting in a triangle: me, gunshot, Leonard. Leonard squeaks happily as I drag my hand through his fur. 

“New York ain't a no-kill city yet, and the thought of this little guy being shipped off to death row at like 2 months old.. “ He shook his head. It is a really sad thought. “So she brought him over the next day. I asked her why she named him that. She said because it had my name in it.” 

He laughs softly. Eyelashes fan themselves against his orbital bone. Lips slightly parted, pale pink.

Why am I thinking about that? I feel hot. 

“You have any pets?” 

My heart almost stops. 

Flipper. I wonder what happened to her. My free hand flexes into a white-knuckled fist. 

Flash. 

Blood. Shayla’s cooling corpse in the trunk of Vera’s car. Flash. 

Flipper whining, the night before 5/9. 

“..uz. Cuz.” Leon’s patting my cheek. “You okay?” He's screwing the lid back on the rubbing alcohol. My free hand still has his bandana in it, now damp with my blood, sweat from my palm. “You sure you don't need to go to an urgent care or some shit?” 

Just the thought makes me nauseous again. All I can do is pet Leonard, who's purring little tiny high kitten purrs, and shake my head. 

“Breathe. You're not…” He catches himself. I think he knows where my brain is going, I can feel the air in me snag on all of the ugly edges. His arm goes around me, his other hand is flat across my chest. “C’mon. Count to five. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” I try it and he nods. “That's good. Three more times.” 

He breathes with me, and my muscles start to relax. He leaves me just long enough to get some water, makes sure I drink it down, keep it down. 

He's so worried. Why do I do this to everyone who comes in contact with me? 

“Sorry, man. I just…” I take a breath, trying not to watch his mouth, the gentleness that I can't possibly deserve there. 

This is all so absurd. I laugh. “It's been a rough fuckin’ month.” 

He chuckles. “I hear that shit.” 

Leonard squeaks, kneading my knee with tiny claws. I try not to wince but everything is so sensitive, I can't. Leon scoops his kitten up, and he protests loudly with meows. 

“Nuh uh, li’l man. Aint no milk for you in his knees.” 

And as he holds his cat up, there's that kindness again. It's hard to look at.

“I had a dog. Her name was Flipper.” I hate how I sound. Fuck. He puts the kitten down, who proceeds to toddle off elsewhere. 

“Yeah?” He lets the word hang there. He holds silence with me as I try to wristle all the ugly bad terrible nuclear shit back into their cages in my head. 

“She's gone now.” I breathe in and fuck me, he's looking at me like there is no asshole cat and I'm the only one in the room. 

He watches me. I watch him watch me. He's matching my silence but his eyes say it all. 

_I'm sorry._ That's what they say most of all. 

And then I just can't take it anymore. Agony from the gunshot wound tries to take back over. I wince anyway. I can't stop that. I hear Mr. Robot’s cackle in my ears. 

My heart’s jumping out of my chest. 

He may be saying something but I can't hear him. 

I reach out. He's already reaching to steady me. 

How do you slay a monster? 

My hand is in his shirt, and I pull him closer. All of the noise rattling around in my skull, all of those horrible fucking feelings, go utterly still when my lips touch his. 

You become the monster. 

It's so quiet. 

So quiet. I hear my heart beating. His too. Was this a mistake? 

Shit. 

And then I feel his smile against my lips. Forcing mine open. His hand catching in my hoodie. Tongue. Hand tightening. Nose grazing mine. Nipping my bottom lip. 

He pulls away with a grin. “That enough of a distraction for you?"


	2. Chill Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt #72. I'm late to breakfast with Leon because of a package.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had Midi's "Chill Out" on a loop while writing this. Hence the title.
> 
> Note that this fic is in the same universe as "Penny/Boom". Companion/sequel. I plan to group all of my tumblr prompts for these two together.
> 
> Thanks again to @thecannabiskid & @malekbrosinc for talking me down. You guys are the best. And I love this fandom! All of you guys are sweethearts.

Prompt 72: “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

Today’s loop has begun. 

My head already hurts. I had dreams, strange and thick and I woke up sweating, heart trying to knock its way out of my chest. I stumbled out of bed, dry heaving. 

Thank god it was only dry heaving. I hate throwing up. Hate it more than any other bodily function. It makes me feel weak. Out of control. Powerless. 

“Kiddo, one day, we’re going to have to do something about those control issues of yours”, Mr. Robot calls from behind me, but I just give him the finger, keep walking. It’s almost time for breakfast. I'm hungry. 

And then the doorbell rings. 

Mom is watching the news. The TV is too loud, I can hear it all the way here in the hallway. I open the door, and there’s a delivery man. He quietly offers me the receipt slip to sign, I scribble on it. He hands me a small box. 

“Have a good day.” He mutters. I don't get a look at his face - but I have the feeling it's generic and bland. Like so much of my world these days.

“You too, man.” It's a mumble. Don't think he cares. Whatever. 

I’m already almost late. I just take the box with me. It’s easier that way. It’s very light, almost weightless. It has my name on it. Just seeing that makes my heart start pounding again. Almost no one knows that I’m at my mom’s. Who sent this, and why? And how did they know? 

Is this real? 

“Real is a relative concept…” Mr. Robot jogs beside me, grinning. “But I’d say it is, yeah.” 

I keep going. I don’t dignify that with an answer. 

I’m going to see Leon. 

_“That enough of a distraction for you?"_

We kissed. It was three days ago. But we kissed. And...we haven’t really talked about it since. He doesn’t regret it, he’s been flirty, I guess. But we haven’t really talked about it. 

I’m not sure. Maybe we don’t need to. 

But. 

I want to do it again. 

And again. 

I don’t know why. 

I just know I want that. 

I want him. 

His hands felt good. He was warm. I was so cold. 

I am still so cold even though it’s summer. 

Mr. Robot is finally silent, he’s gone. 

Maybe Leon is my lucky charm. My spell to send him away. 

Maybe Leon can set me free. 

“You’re late, cuz.” Leon’s grinning and he’s brighter than the sun. He hurts to look at sometimes. I slide into the booth. He waves over a waiter, orders for us. I let him. He knows what I like by now anyway. 

I see his arm. He sees me looking at his arm. 

Little tiny tantrum kitten scratches. 

“Someone didn’t want dad to leave the house, huh?” The thought of his asshole toddler kitten makes me smile. 

“No. He’s still a baby. He misses his momma.” Leon sighs, leaning back against the back of the booth. He looks tired. What haunts him late at night? Is he like me? I mean, not with a guy that likes to shoot me in the head (who no one else can see anyway, though that might still be up for debate, I’m not sure, I haven’t talked to Darlene about it) kind of the same. But with demons. Things that keep him awake. Regrets. 

If I could take those away, I would. I know what demons are, what they taste like. How they live in your deepest places, scratch at you with poisoned talons so that you won’t heal without a reminder of them. 

“You okay? You look tired.” He tilts his head, studying my face. It feels too intimate. 

It shouldn’t. I mean, we kissed. A lot. Only for one day but still. Why does this feel so foreign? So...alien? 

I shrug. “I sleep. I do my best.” The waitress brings our drinks. They have cold brew at this diner. Which is fucking weird. Must be one of the four horsemen of gentrification calling if they have cold brew here. Still, I won’t complain. It’s better than regular coffee. And it’s hot out. “And I guess I’ve been burned out, so it’ll take me longer to stop looking so tired.” 

Burnout is a mild term for it. Mr. Robot sits behind Leon, head propped up on his arms, leaning over the booth and watching us. He chuckles quietly to himself. Asshole. 

Leon nods. 

“I’m good”, I tell him. I want him to be okay with this. “Don’t worry.” 

“Kinda hard not to, cuz.” His smile is almost shy. “I mean you were bleeding all over yourself the other day out of almost nowhere. Kinda hard to ignore that.” He balances his spoon on his nose. 

Then he reaches out and taps my hand, the box still in it. “What’s this?” The spoon drops but he catches it with his other hand.

I almost forgot. “Delivery guy came as I was leaving to get here. Not sure.” 

Leon barks a laugh. “Go on! Open it!” He’s like a child during the holidays. He wants to open the boxes and their wrapping in great rips and tears. 

“But kids often don’t know what they want or what they’re getting into when they try to open those boxes. They don’t know what’s inside. Pandora is a case in point.” Robot looks predatory with a great shark smile with all his teeth showing. “But to be fair, that is the appeal.” He rests his cheek on his forearm. “Tell me, kiddo. What will Leon find when he unwraps you?” 

His words make me shake. I hate that he still can make me do that. I thought I was beyond that. Guess not. 

“Come on!” Leon pokes at the box. “If you don’t, I will.” 

I shrug. “Yeah, okay.” I get the butter knife, and draw a dissecting line down the middle. Flaps open. Inside is a smaller box, almost like one that comes with jewelry when you buy it. And there’s a note. I draw both out. Note first. 

_Bonsoir, Elliot._

My heart drops to my feet. My mouth is dry. But I keep reading. 

_It’s been so very stressful for you lately. So I got you a gift. One must reward such hard work, after all. I hope you enjoy it. This is your brand, correct? A little birdie said it was. I hope you enjoy it._

It’s unsigned but only one person I know speaks that way. 

Tyrell is alive. 

It’s strange. After a solid month of pestering and being shot by Mr. Robot, I’ve demanded to know - what happened that night of 5/9? What happened to Tyrell after the arcade? He’s gone. But I guess he’s around. He must be hiding out. 

But my stomach feels hollow and I feel sick. 

“Elliot.” Leon’s voice is soft. Almost hesitant. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or some shit.” 

I laugh. It comes out a little hysterical. But I guess that’s expected, right? Mr. Robot is whistling to himself in amazement. 

“I’ll be damned. That son of a bitch is alive.” He’s laughing and it’s bouncing off the walls. Like really strong reverb from a stereo system, the kind you can hear from the next building over. It’s manic. It’s terrible. But even Mr. Robot didn’t know about Tyrell. Or at least, he didn’t know he was still alive. 

So does he know what happened at all? I have to rethink everything. This changes it all. If Mr. Robot doesn’t know, who does? Darlene? Angela? Trenton? Romero? Mobley? Who else can I talk to who knows? What else can I do? 

“Elliot?” 

I’m sorry, Leon. I don’t mean to ignore you. But now I need to know what he sent me. 

My hands are shaking. I nearly crush the damn thing as I try to get the box open. 

Three pearly pills lie on a cushion of soft spun cotton. My mouth opens. 

Ever since that road trip to Steel Mountain and Mr. Robot took me to that crack house to score, I haven’t used. Not one day. I wanted to. God, did I want to. But now. 

Now this high-grade, pristine morphine is taunting me. Laughing at me. And I want to crush it and put it inside of me. Oh god, do I want to do that. 

My mouth is so dry. It’s drier than that cotton in that box. Leon’s eyes narrow. 

“Put it away.” His voice is low. “Pigs hang out around here sometimes.” 

His hands cover mine, forcing the box back in the larger one. My hands feel small and icy. His feel warm. His eyes burn. He studies me. I want to leave, and hide. I don’t think I can take him looking at me that way. Like I’m going to be revealed, unveiled. 

Naked. That’s the feeling. Completely exposed. 

“Did anyone se-” 

“You’re good. I think.” His eyes don’t budge from mine. “You used to use.” It’s not a question. 

All I can do is nod. And look away. “Come on.” He takes my wrist, pulls me out of the booth. He drags me to the bathroom. Locks the door behind us. “Leon, what -” 

He kisses me. Hard. It’s full of teeth and heat and I can’t think. His hand is holding my jaw and his tongue is twirling around mine and he’s pushing me against the wall. My eyes are closing. His hand is moving. I’m so pale compared to him. I feel his fingerprints scraping at my throat. No hard pressure. No lack of air. More of a predatory move. Conquering. This is mine. You cannot have this. 

Noise. I don’t know who makes it. I think it was me. 

He nips hard under my jaw. 

“If I ever see you use, or even think about using…” His breath is warm against my skin. He brackets my body against the cold tile. He’s pressed against me. 

But it’s strange. I don’t want to run. 

He’s covering me. Shielding me. 

Safe. 

It’s a safe feeling. 

Pressure increases everywhere. His teeth are sharp. I think of lions. Scrapes my adam’s apple. He retakes my mouth. __This is mine.__

“I swear to god…” His voice is jagged against my lips. Like rocks. Iron maiden. The crush against them is sweet. “I swear to god, Elliot. I will kick your ass.” 

Wild thoughts dance ricochet around my skull. I want him to rip me open, flay me wide. 

I push my forehead against his. 

I kiss him again. 

And once more. Harder. 

And once more after that. My arms around his shoulders. 

All I can do is nod. He took my words away with his own. I don’t need them right now. It’s okay. He can have them. 

Mr. Robot is gone. He is silent and gone. 

Leon understands. My eyes finally open, and he’s smile. It’s delirious and blinding and fierce but he understands. It’s enough. 

He’s given me something far better to get high off of, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always y'all can hmu on tumblr @pinksugarsheartattack. Don't be shy!


End file.
